Avatars
The tyrant dies and his reign ends, the martyr dies, and his reign begins. S. K. Somewhere in America it dawns and Another man stands up and faces his Circumstance. The man faces himself, his living and his dead. Another man sees corpses, sees persecuted and Persecutors, and joins the fight in this or That clan… But the man lies, the Tormentor he sees, is not a man… Is beast. The man hungers and thirsts for justice. The Blessed. But he also must do Something to quench that thirst and hunger. The Satiety doesn't dry itself, the man must Work to achieve it. That is why he erects barricades On the streets and marches shouting slogans against the Oppressor, against the beast and his minions. The man knows these struggles. [Fragment from my poem «Avatars»] Print of the painting available in metal, glass, paper, or canvas, in sizes of 4«x6» to 20«x30».
Death of the Dictator
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